


romance is boring !

by orphan_account



Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: 035 is a she, 035 is a they, Author Is Sleep Deprived, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Lazy Mornings, Literal Sleeping Together, Morning Kisses, Sharing a Bed, Sparring, Swordfighting, fuck 035 they got no fucking name because what the fuck would i name them, let them rest, more likely than you think, seriously fuck them, woah dani making fluff, yall ever spar with your lover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26494402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: a little fluff drabble that i made that uses my own headcanons for 035 and 049.who doesnt love some swordfighting with your lover?
Relationships: SCP-035/SCP-049 (SCP Foundation)
Kudos: 11





	romance is boring !

Being a nomadic doctor is hard. But it's not so bad when your lovely companion of a decade or so is able to get you anywhere through simple means of persuasion. In fact it's quite nice. You get to go to places you'd never get to go, like the luxurious bedroom of a wealthy warlord. Which is where Amrit rests in the arms of his masked lover. Currently they possessed the body of a woman, and possessing this kind of body alone was enough to keep them up all night long. Unpleasant memories of a past life far from here was a hell of an anti melatonin. 

Now the blazing desert sun had risen over the sand dunes. Sunlight leaked past gaps in the white drapes onto the pair's bed, illuminating the room enough for the former Lord to see the man in her arms clearly. She brushes a bit of his raven black curls off his cheek, exposing the bandage cloth under it. It wasn't dirty thankfully, but it upset them whenever they laid eyes on it. It reminded them that they failed to protect him last week against those bandits. Amrit can hold his own with his khanda, but seeing her darling in pain made her heart ache. 

But what has been done has been done. Better that he was nicked than for the mask to be left alone without him. Not much she could do besides nag him about eating and taking care of himself. The doctor almost never rests so it seems. It made times like this rare, but they'd admit that it makes these times special. She took a finger and placed it on his mahogany forehead. Then she began tracing his face. Something about human faces was just so intriguing to them. Maybe it's because they're so similar to the faces of the beings back home. Yet at the same time so different.

Her blackened finger goes down his nose, making him groan a little. They ignore the fact that Amrit might be awake and takes her finger lower to the tip of the scar on his lip. How did that happen again? Then they remembered that his story behind that scar was that when he was a young boy, he fooled around with his sword and cut himself. The mask chuckled at the mental image of that, not noticing that he was staring at their finger. 

"Why is your finger on my mouth," Amrit asked in Arabic, accent peeking through on some letters. They yelp in surprise and move their finger off. "Nothing. I was doing nothing darling," they said while facing away. He smiled a little as he sat up. 

"Right." He laid his head on her shoulder. "Why didn't you have those servants wake me up at dawn? I have work to do. You know that." If they could roll their eyes, they would. They adjusted the arm that was still around him so he wouldn't be uncomfortable. "It's always work with you. Can't you have one day of nothing but rest? Besides, you're still healing," they said while gesturing to the bandage. 

Amrit grabbed her hand and put it on his bandage. He winced a little but managed to keep a straight face. "See? Doesn't hurt." The mask wasn't convinced though. She takes her hand off his bandage but still held his hand. "You still need a break. Everytime we stop in a place with people, you throw yourself into your work and don't let yourself rest. Let yourself rest for at least today."

"What about the procedure I planned to do this afternoon," he asks. She sighed while mulling it over. "Fine. But can you least do something other than your work for the morning?" Amrit thought for a few minutes while his lover played with some of his hair. 

Finally he figured out what he could do that didn't include working on his cure. "I haven't practiced with my sword in forever. Do you think there is a place here that we can spar together in peace?" The mask nodded, face grinning. A chance to practice some skills is never something to give up, especially you can do it with your lover. "There may be a place somewhere in this palace. But first, lets eat," She said as she spread her hands out to gesture to the servants coming in. They balanced food on a silver platter. 

The servants placed before the pair a small breakfast banquet. Loaves of pita bread were neatly lined up on the left, next to a bowl full of dates. A smaller bowl of ruby red pomegranate seeds sat in the middle of the platter in between the dates and a fig bowl. Two goblets of wine sat on the right side of the platter. Amrit grabbed a date while the mask asked for them to prepare the courtyard for a sparring match. Then they waved the servants away. 

The two of them ate well, although Amrit ate with haste. So much that he choked on a bit of wine, throwing him into a coughing fit. "By the King, are you alright darling? Slow down, the food isn't going to go away," she said with concern. She pats his shoulder as his coughing slows down and he starts breathing normally again. "I,I'm alright. Just excited, that's all." The somber expression that the mask wore told him that they were still concerned. Amrit grabbed one of their hands and brought it up to his lips. "Are you sure?" They moved their hand to cup his bandage free cheek, fingertips below that ugly scar that Mongol gave him. "I'm sure _mera pyaar_." Their face switches back to a grin and they continue with their breakfast.

Once they finish, they go down to the courtyard. The gate that leads out of the palace was closed, the only thing getting in was sand blown in by the wind. No guards were lined on top since they disposed of them last night. The only people there besides the pair was a few servants. They walked over to find Amrit's khanda polished and ready leaning on the left wall. A wooden sword for the mask laid besides it. The two picked up their weapons, but the mask seemed disgusted. "They gave me a wooden sword. Why'd they give me a wooden sword when you have a metal sword? Imbeciles," she grumbled. 

That makes Amrit chuckle as he watches her do a few experimental slashes with the sword. He walks two meters away, while teasing "It'll make it easier for me to beat you that way." They copied what he did and the pair began circling around each other. A bit unnecessary, but they have a flair for the dramatics. "Really darling? You think you could beat a Lord," They sneer. Out of habit, they summon a few black appendages out of the ground.

His nose scrunched. "No magic!" She groaned while her appendages slithered back into the ground. Amrit used this temporary distraction to advance towards the mask and cut at her left arm. They yelp in surprise and retreat back, narrowly dodging getting nicked. He grinned at them as wood connects with metal. "Did I frighten you, darling?" he japed with a grin. 

She shed his sword off and they both stood a bit back from the other, waiting to see what the other does. This time the mask attacked first with a thrust that he parried with ease. Amrit takes another cut at her leg, which lands this time. 

They hiss as they see his sword pull away with a red glint on his blade. "I'm going to get blood everywhere! Darling why," they ask as their face turns into a frown. He laughs at their concern over a little cut. Still frowning, they used the small window of time to get a small puddle of black goop ready behind him.

Amrit lunged towards them and feigned a cut to their right arm, but went higher up to just under her chin. They paused for a moment and put her free hand on her throat. Their fingertips were stained red, a bit of black acid mixed in with it.

She stares at him. He returned the stare with pursed lips. A bit of sweat dripped off of his forehead while he caught his breath. Amrit was not sure whether or not he should stop or tend to her wound. Do they even feel pain? He can't remember. Either way, regardless if they feel pain or not, he had to help them. Amrit drops his khanda and goes up to her. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to hurt you. I got into the match a little too much. Would you like me to te-." They held up a hand to make him stop.

The mask put their hand on his shoulder and said, "No. I'm alright. Besides if you do anything to do with my cuts, wouldn't you be working? I thought you weren't supposed to do that this morning." He shrugged, "So it would be. But does it hurt?" She shook her head no, while making a little tendril rise out of the puddle of black goop. He sighs in relief, so they can't feel pain. Good.

"Should we stop or is it alright if we continue," Amrit asked. Not noticing the tendril wrapping itself around his leg. "Let's take a small break," They said while the tendril gets bigger by the second. "I know what could lift you up." He looked down and shrieked as his feet were pulled into the air. The mask laughed while he turned into the dictionary of curses from the dialects he knew. 

He struggled for a bit then crossed his arms and let himself dangle. "Thank you, this was very uplifting. Now put me down please." His tone sounded it like he was trying to keep the shrillness out of his voice, but failed. Instead of putting him down the mask raised him higher to get them face to face. "Nooo, you didn't say sorry for hurting my host," They said while switching from a grin to a frown. 

Amrit rolled his eyes. His head started to pound from being upside down. "We were sparring. Without any armour. Your host is going to dissolve soon anyways." They tilt their head and put their hand on their hip. He averted his eyes, "Alright. I'm sorry for hurting your host. Put me down please." 

Satisfied with the apology they flip him into their arms. Amrit groans for his head hurt from being dangled upside down and literally flipped into his lover’s arms. A price to pay for drama. “Do you want to continue sparring now?” He took a bit to respond since the world was a bit more blurry than usual. "No. You made my head ache. For the last time put me down please."

She giggled a bit while putting him down. "Well that was fun. Want to go wash up? I need to switch my host so we can leave once you're done with your procedure." Amrit puts his arm around them and leans on her. "Why not." 

And so they went.

**Author's Note:**

> 049 indian and wields swords pog? pog, anyways hope you enjoyed. this was kinda jus description practice since i suck ass at descriptions. probably goes into purple prose but who cares i wanted to get this out of my head and into the world. this is way longer than i expected it to be. 
> 
> im aware that the sword duel lowkey ass i half assed it so it's probably unrealistic as fuck ahahaaaaaaa and i used google translate sorry. i just really didn't feel like researching a lot tonight.


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